


According to Protocol

by brazenedMinstrel



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Angst, Battle, Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, F/F, Fight Scene, Fighting, Forsaken, Gore, Guilt, I like their dynamic a lot, Maiev don't be rude, Rating switch bc of, Sparring, Undead, Violence, we'll get to kissing eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2019-11-14 11:08:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18051365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brazenedMinstrel/pseuds/brazenedMinstrel
Summary: ‘When I fall in battle, it’s your duty to protect me.’Maiev mentally cursed that protocol. Yet Shandris was right. One of the rules for the two night elven military leaders, the Captain of the Wardens and the Sentinel-General. If one was downed, the other had to try to ensure their survival. She narrowed her eyes. ‘Bold of you to assume I’ll do that.’The shocked look on Shandris’ face, and those of many elves around her, was worth the small twinge of guilt she felt.Or: Maiev tries so hard not to care, but fails.





	1. Chapter 1

With her new position as commander of all night elven forces came new duties. Maiev knew this. No longer walking alone, in the shadows beyond the rows of sentinels as they marched, was one of the things she was willing to accept. Having to stand by twice as many councils, even the ones not pertaining to military duties, well, that was barely doable, but necessary. Taking care not to piss Tyrande off much more than usual was difficult. But this, this was not on her list of things she was willing to do to keep her position. Sparring with such people as Shandris Feathermoon was not fun, or necessary. 

 

And yet, mostly because the night elves wanted to see their two military leaders square off against each other, here she was. Unmasked, helmet and armor discarded. Cloth wrapped around her fists, lest she bash the High Priestess’ dear daughter’s nose in. Maiev felt the pull of her scars more clearly without her armor to hide them. Or perhaps she snarled more than usual, wrinkling the toughened skin across her face. As she dodged a sluggishly thrown punch and braced her abs against a too weak kick, she thought:  _ should I let her land a hit, just to make her feel like she can accomplish something?  _

 

As humorous as the thought was, Maiev decided against it. For all she cared, Shandris could dance around her ‘till midnight and not get her down in the dirt. The Sentinel-General’s steps were light, whereas Maiev’s were grounded and firm. The girl launched herself at the Warden with a kick, performing a graceful half-salto before aiming her sole at Maiev’s shoulder. 

 

Her retort was anything but elegant, grabbing the foot with her left hand and pulling Shandris towards her. All the strength behind the kick only served to bring the sentinel to a very rough stop. Her other foot skidded, sending dust whirling upwards. Before she could smack onto her back, Maiev let go of her foot and delivered a terrible uppercut with her right fist. 

 

Shandris went flying, landing in the soil a good few feet from Maiev. She got up quicker than the Warden had anticipated however, sprinting towards her despite the daze she must have felt in her brain. Still, her attack was sloppy. A barely viable punch, aimed at the neck but landing on Maiev’s shoulder. The Warden didn’t budge an inch. Shandris’ eyes went wide when her punch connected with rock hard muscle. 

 

It didn’t hurt, not much. Maiev locked eyes with the girl, scowling at her amateurism. Then she headbutted her, making the younger general crumple into the dirt again and pinning her with a foot against her chest for good measure. ‘You’re weak, Shandris,’ she growled. ‘Should’ve fought one of your own sentinels. They’re at least on your level.’ 

 

Shandris coughed against the dust cloud surrounding her head. ‘I’m at your level! I wouldn’t be General if I wasn’t.’ 

 

‘No, you’re not.’ Maiev pressed her foot harder onto her opponent’s collarbone. ‘Now yield or I’ll pummel you again.’ 

 

For a moment, it seemed as if Shandris was so insolent to try to wiggle out from underneath the solid foot on her chest. Then, after a brief struggle and a sharp gasp when the heel dug into her shoulder painfully, she yielded. 

 

Maiev kept her foot down for a few seconds longer than truly necessary. She wanted to make sure that Shandris recognized her superiority. From the corner of her eye, she saw the white clad silhouette of Tyrande square her shoulders and crane her neck to see if she could scold Maiev. Not wanting to be publicly called out for putting the spoiled general in her place, she relented, dusted off her palms and turned on her heel to return to her quarters for a wash. 

 

Then Shandris called out after her. Her voice was even shriller than usual. ‘Don’t think this means anything! In a rematch, I will beat you.’ 

 

‘In a rematch, you’ll end up face first in the dirt again,’ Maiev said, without even looking back. She picked up her green cape, clasping it around her shoulders to hide the worst of the scars on her arms. ‘I’d like to see you take down anything better than a greenling warden with your bare fists.’ 

 

‘This doesn’t matter in a real battle,’ Shandris yelled, barely acknowledging the insult. 

 

A slim grin, still half a scowl, broke through on Maiev’s face. The girl had more guts than she anticipated. The right corner of her mouth didn’t go along with the rest, rendered immobile by the scar splitting her lips. ‘I think you’ll fall all the same.’ 

 

She picked up her helmet and turned to the general, lifting her chin slightly in defiance. 

 

Her challenge wasn’t noted by Shandris, who only said: ‘When I fall in battle, it’s  _ your _ duty to protect  _ me _ .’ 

 

Maiev mentally cursed that protocol. Yet Shandris was right. One of the rules for the two night elven military leaders, the Captain of the Wardens and the Sentinel-General. If one was downed, the other had to try to ensure their survival. She narrowed her eyes. ‘Bold of you to assume I’ll do that.’ 

 

The shocked look on Shandris’ face, and those of many elves around her, was worth the small twinge of guilt she felt. Little did they know that she wouldn't dare to actually disobey the protocol. 

 

‘I would do the same, if you fell in battle,’ Shandris said, clearly trying to go for Maiev’s sense of honor. 

 

‘If I fell in battle, you would be long dead,’ the Warden retorted sharply. ‘I have no need for your protection. 

 

‘Is that why your Warden died at Darkshore? Because you don’t protect your troops?’ 

 

That arrogance. The audacity. Before Maiev was fully aware of herself, she had blinked forward and shoved Shandris to the ground. The girl landed on her knees with a grunt, and Maiev lifted her chin with a knee. 

 

‘Careful with what you say, Feathermoon, if you still want to sleep soundly tonight,’ she grated, voice full of malice and barely contained, righteous anger. The general had no rights, no rights at all, to touch upon the events of that particular night. The hurt, the guilt. It was too fresh in her memory. She didn’t relent. Not even when Shandris looked up at her, frightened like a young deer. Instead, she inched closer, tilting the head of the Night Warrior’s daughter in an uncomfortable position with her knee. A small noise of pain came from Shandris’ mouth. 

 

With a flurry of energy, the High Priestess herself came in between them. Maiev blinked back as Shandris shakily got to her feet, searching out her mother’s eyes for assurance. 

 

‘Do not threaten my-’ 

 

‘I will threaten anyone I want, whenever I want.’ Before Tyrande could even finish her sentence, Maiev spat the words at her. And she spat physically too, in the dirt before Shandris’ feet. Her little yelp was near music to her ears. 

 

When she marched back to her quarters, she contemplated her own words. They would serve to teach the girl a lesson. And cause some sleepless nights. Though fortunately, Maiev had better things to do in her nights than scare Tyrande’s pampered kid. Real training, with a few devoted Wardens of her own. In the cool air by the beach, practicing for when they were going to defend the rest of the night elven clan again. And they had to, because the group was bound to march on soon, and the forests of Darkshore were still teeming with undead. 

 

~~~~~

 

Shandris had barely slept. Naturally, Maiev didn’t turn up for something this petty, but the thought of the Warden’s helmeted face suddenly staring down at her in the dead of night had haunted her the entire night. Her bruised shoulders and head hurt. 

 

In the crisp, cool morning air, she sought out the Warden. Equal parts fear and guilt pressed heavily within her chest. She found Maiev on the outskirts of the encampment, as she had expected. The woman, who wore nothing but a simple cotton shirt and leathers despite the cold, was eating a large fruit. Very noisily. Her left ear, the only intact one, twitched at Shandris’ approach through the dewy grass. The young general’s look was drawn to the other ear. If one could still call it an ear, halved and scarred as it was. Shandris shivered, averting her eyes from the ugly tattered edge of it. 

 

Maiev barely turned her head in her direction, spitting half a mouthful of fruit seeds into the grass besides her. It was as if she wanted to say “do not sit next to me or I will spit on you again”. 

 

When Shandris halted behind her and cleared her throat, she did not move. Only after a few minutes of tense silence, in which Shandris curled her hands into fists and tried to keep her breathing calm while Maiev ate her fruit with a lot of disgusting, most likely on purpose, slurping noises, the Warden sighed. 

 

‘What?’ she said, the ever present scowl clear in her words. 

 

Shandris opened her mouth, then closed it again, not knowing what exactly to say. A simple “sorry” wasn’t going to cut it. Yet Maiev was not fond of long-winding conversations either, and Shandris didn’t want to piss her off even more. ‘I am sorry… about yesterday,’ she started. No, that was too standard of an apology. ‘I… shouldn’t have said that thing-’ 

 

‘You shouldn’t have annoyed me until I accepted you so-called invitation for sparring, purely to get rid of you buzzing around me.’ 

 

A quiet  _ oh _ left Shandris’ mouth. That might have been the longest sentence she had heard Maiev say in a century or two. ‘N-no… yes, I shouldn’t have done that, no,’ she mumbled. 

 

‘Was that the only reason why you came here?’ Maiev inquired. ‘Or did you really think I’m not going to drag you out of battle when you’ve got a scratch. She’d kill me for less.’ 

 

‘Are you that afraid of my mother?’ 

 

Instantly, the Warden turned her head. Shandris’ fellow elves had once said that the morning light made everyone seem softer. Yet with Maiev, the missing left nostril and the cleaves of scar tissue across her face and arms seemed even more apparent. The Sentinel-General breathed sharply under her icy glare. She had overstepped, once again. 

 

‘I’m not afraid of her. She can stick her Night Warrior thing up her ass if she wants to. But if you die, we’ll have a hard time searching for a replacement.’ 

 

A replacement. A simple  _ thing _ , like a cog in a machine that can be  _ replaced _ . That is how Maiev thinks about her. Shandris held back a gasp, scrambling to come up with a reply. 

 

Maiev didn’t let her think for long. 

 

‘Leave,’ she grumbled, turning back to her fruit and taking a large bite. The blue, soft inside of the fruit lent itself well for another round of sickening smacking noises. With her mouth still full of food, bits sticking to her fangs and lips, she said: ‘I’ll march alongside you when we close the queue, on our way to wherever Tyrande wants to go. That’s all I’ll do for you until you get try yourself killed. Don’t waste my time ‘till then.’ 

 

Shandris looked away, once more at a loss for words. An agressive  _ splat  _ of fruit seeds landing in the grass shook her from her thoughts. Maiev tossed the empty shell of the fruit into the bushes and righted herself up to her full, impressive length. 

 

‘We will march in the evening hours,’ Shandris quietly said. ‘My mother is leading us to an abandoned temple of Elune, deeper within the forest.’ 

 

‘Oh.’ 

 

That was Maiev’s only reply. 

 

When she walked away, over the path leading to the wardens’ tents, Shandris fought the urge to run after her. She hadn’t even been able to say how sorry she felt for starting about the death of Maiev’s second-in-command. Naturally, she knew that she had opened a wound that was only barely healed, if at all. And she knew too, that Maiev would staunchly march, and fight if necessary, alongside her in the evening. But what exactly went on in the Warden’s head, she couldn’t fathom. 

 

As she watched the large silhouette disappear in the morning mist, she wished she knew the words to apologize. And not shun Maiev at the same time. 

 

Her eyes traveled downwards, to where Maiev had sat a few minutes prior. The two wads of spit with fruit seeds slowly sunk into the dirt, nearly accusing Shandris of disturbing the Warden’s short period of quiet and relative peace. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't write a story about Maiev without some good battles. Which is why there's a rating change. Beware, beware of blood n gore. 
> 
> They're fine... don't worry :'')
> 
> My Ko-Fi, https://ko-fi.com/Y8Y3PEOH

They marched, as promised, next to each other, closing the long trail of night elves with a few elite soldiers of theirs. 

 

Shandris’ eyes constantly flicked back and forth between Maiev’s hulking form next to her and her own feet. In the back of her mind, she knew that she should be more on guard. But ever since their sparring session, she felt strangely put in her place by Maiev. After asking her mother, who had assured her that she earned the title of Sentinel-General and had said that the Warden was too arrogant for her own good, she felt only marginally better. 

 

She looked at Maiev again. No emotion was visible in the suit of armor. Then the Warden looked at her too. Shandris opened her mouth to speak. Hopefully they were able to talk it out on this nightly march, if it hadn’t worked in the morning. But Maiev spoke first. 

 

‘Forsaken on the right.’ 

 

Notching an arrow, Shandris whirled to the dark forest besides the road. Her bow sang, a rotten skeleton fell in between the stems of the trees, her arrow lodged in its forehead. Yet it crawled on, only to be crushed by Maiev’s sabaton when she stomped on it. ‘Wardens, shield the unarmed. Bring them to higher terrain, search for a clearing!’ she commanded. 

 

‘Sentinels! Behind the Wardens! Hold the undead off, protect the sick and elderly!’ Shandris chimed in. 

 

Then she saw Maiev turn to one of her Wardens. They exchanged a few words in Darnassian. In the uproar of panicked elven voices and the groveling of the Forsaken, Shandris could barely hear any of it. 

 

‘ _ I shall join you later… must search… could be here _ ,’ Maiev said. The other Warden nodded, and the grizzled warrior sprinted off into the forest, straight at the Forsaken troops. 

 

‘Maiev! Where are you going?’ Shandris called after her. She vaguely remembered their conversation after the sparring. Maiev had said that she wouldn’t protect her, despite the military protocol. 

 

_ The uppermost leaders must protect each other in battle, lest one fall,  _ Shandris thought. 

 

The Wardens and Sentinels were retreating with the rest of the elves. Wardens forming the front line with their heavy armor, Sentinels rapidly firing arrows behind them, shielding them from the onslaught of undead. Shooting another few arrows and taking out three more Forsaken, Shandris stepped backwards, away from the other night elves. She took a deep breath.  _ I must do this,  _ she thought. It was her duty.  _ Maiev cannot just run off and leave.  _ She shouldered her bow and ran after Maiev. 

 

She found the Warden in a small clearing, fighting a veritable horde of undead. An abomination, towering over even her, staggered away, a long gash in its stomach, weeping blackened blood. The undead were afraid, Shandris realized. Maiev’s fury frightened even them. 

 

One skeletal archer was about to fire an arrow at the Warden. Yet Shandris’ bow sung, and he fell in a heap of bones onto the ground. Maiev whirled around. 

 

‘What are you doing here? Go back to the group,’ she growled. 

 

‘You cannot just run off!’ 

 

‘I have business with these foul creatures. My Wardens can do without me. Can your Sentinels fight without you though, I wonder.’ 

 

‘They can handle themselves just fine!’ 

 

This woman just wouldn't stop insulting her. Shandris ran up to Maiev, firing more arrows and drawing her two long knives. For a brief minute, the two fought back to back. Shandris’ blades twirling through the air and the Warden’s glaive hacking away behind her. But just as the young General wanted to call out to her colleague, and implore her to go back to camp, a creaking rattle to their right startled her. Maiev crushed another Forsaken, then cursed loudly. 

 

A blight-throwing, forsaken catapult, already halfway down the clearing. The undead were rolling it steadily towards them, loading the launcher with its foul ammunition. Shandris knew she had to get to it before it could fire, and cover everything with blight. 

 

‘Sure, if a horde can't do it, bring out the overload,’ Maiev grumbled, smashing her glaive into the skull of a skeleton. 

 

‘I'll disable it!’ Shandris sprinted to the machine. She jumped up high, dodging arrows from lesser archers than herself. With one of her knives, she struck at the tightly wound rope, connecting the launcher and its frame. It snapped with a  _ twang.  _ The blighted ammunition fell uselessly to the ground. Lightly, she landed on one of the support beams, ready to immediately take off again. But the wood was rotten. Her weight was enough to break it. 

 

Shrieking sharply, she was helpless when the catapult came down on top of her. She fell, and the catapult crashed onto her. Shandris screamed in pain as the wooden beams crushed her underneath their weight. Sharp splinters tore into her flesh. One of the biggest planks landed squarely onto her chest, her ribcage crunched under the impact. Then darkness took her. 

 

‘Shandris!  _ Shandris!  _ Come  _ on!’ _

 

Maiev was yelling at her, she vaguely registered. 

 

‘Come on, you're not  _ that _ weak, are you?’ 

 

Shandris groaned, slowly becoming aware of the sounds of battle around her. She was lying on her side, one arm uncomfortably scrunched up underneath her. Splinters dug into her side, she felt warm blood seep over her leather armor. Worst of all, one of the blight launcher’s supporting beams was still lodged over her chest, pressing down onto her. She shifted, and shrilly cried out as pain spiked in her ribs. Some of them were definitely broken. 

 

‘Get that thing off you!’ Maiev shouted. She blinked away from Shandris, slaughtering more undead that are quickly advancing. As far as Shandris could see, the Forsaken kept pouring onto the clearing from the surrounding forest. 

 

‘I… I can’t! It’s too heavy,’ she said. Still she tried, attempting to push it off her with the one free arm. 

 

It was not enough. Defeated, she sagged back to the ground, while the wood painfully shifted over her bones. Slowly, she started to faint again, the darkened moon becoming fuzzy. A gilded pair of horns appeared in her vision, two strong hands shook her by the shoulders. Shandris weakly whined in pain. Maiev’s head disappeared from her line of sight, but she heard her speak. While not entirely understanding it, she could hear the Warden curse. The weight on her chest was lifted slightly. Now able to turn her head, Shandris saw that Maiev was kneeling down beside her, wrenching the wooden beam off the ground. 

 

_ She really is strong…  _ she thought.  _ Maybe I should’ve let her be, not challenge her to sparring. I’ll tell it when we’re at the temple… that I respect her.  _

 

_ Clack.  _ An arrow lodged itself into the wood next to her head. Shandris yelped. Instantly, Maiev let go of the beam, charging at the forsaken archer. After a sickly crunch of breaking rotten bones, she returned. 

 

‘I told you to stay away. why did you run after me?’ 

 

‘I obey our protocol.’

 

‘Yes, and it’ll be your death one day!’ Maiev sighed heavily, then sunk her taloned gloves into the wooden beam again. She lifted it enough so Shandris could move. Then another volley of arrows sailed towards them. The archer could hear them whistling through the air. But the Warden stood up, dropping the beam and placing herself in between Shandris and the arrows. After a metallic sound of arrows striking her armor and a muted  _ hrrk _ from underneath the helmet, she turned to Shandris again. 

 

‘You’ve got to get yourself out, there’s too many of them. I’ll hold them off,’ she growled, her face out of her sight, so the fallen general could only guess her emotions. ‘But hurry.’ 

 

Shandris definitely tried to hurry. Pushing the heavy wood off her with all her might, only to fall back with a scream when it moved her broken ribs against each other. Breathing heavily, she looked at Maiev. The undead were swarming the Warden, who still fought them off with swift strikes. 

 

Again and again, the young Sentinel-General tried. She got the beam up a few inches, enough to shift her body half a foot over the ground and turn herself on her back. Then her shaking arms gave out and it crashed down again. Shrieking in pain, she fell back. 

 

To her surprise, Maiev screamed as well. Though it could not really be called a scream, low and hoarse as it was. The Warden was wrenching a Forsaken off her arm, its claws shrieking on the metal of her armor. Succeeding, she freed her glaive and hacked it nearly in half. Yet three others threw themselves at her, bringing the imposing night elf to her knees with their combined weight. 

 

Despite her screwed morals and cranky attitude, Maiev was holding them off. As Shandris lay underneath the wrecked catapult, slowly fading into unconsciousness, she realized. Maiev did adhere to the protocol, but was too stubborn and bitter to admit it. But she was protecting her. The moon became a vague ring of light in the night sky, and Shandris felt a warm darkness overtake her. 

 

In the clearing, she heard once again the sharp ring of arrows striking steel. And the dull thwack of arrows striking flesh. Craning her head so much that her neck hurt, Shandris could just see the Warden stumble backwards, at least five undead clinging to her, dragging her down. Violently, she slashed around with her glaive until freed, then roughly snapped several arrow shafts that had punctured her armor. She staggered, clenching her armored fists, but didn’t fall, and didn’t look back to Shandris. 

 

The young general took a deep breath, shaking the choking blackness from her mind. Digging one heel deep into the ground and bending the other leg, she pushed with all her strength. The wooden beam shifted, slowly lifting. Groaning in equal parts pain and anger, Shandris fought against the looming unconsciousness, eventually hoarsely screaming to keep herself from fainting. Behind her, something fell to the ground with a heavy thud. At that moment, she finally got the space she needed to crawl out from underneath the catapult. Her broken ribs protested, but the adrenaline got her there. As she coughed and caught her breath, something snapped back into her attention. Maiev. Shandris lifted her head, taking in big gulps of cool night air, and looked for the Warden. 

 

A veritable pile of vanquished undead lay in the clearing. In their midst, Maiev, equally unmoving. She had killed them all. 

 

Shandris ran for the Warden’s body, kneeled down and wrenched the helmet off her head. Her one-and-a-half ears popped free, the scars dark on her skin in the moonlight. To her unabashed surprise, Maiev’s glowing eyes were open, and staring straight at her. 

 

‘You got that thing off you, huh?’ she wheezed. 

 

‘Yes… I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.’ Shandris scanned what she could see of Maiev’s injuries. They didn’t bode well. A cut in her neck that oozed blood, more sanguine leaking from in between the plates of her armor, a trail of it down her chin. Half a dozen broken arrows protruded from her plating. Her left arm was bent at an awkward angle.  

 

‘I had trouble lifting it… you’re strong, Shandris.’ Maiev narrowed her eyes, surveying Shandris intensely. She nodded in a curt sign of respect, then closed her eyes for a few seconds too long. 

 

‘C’mon, go. Get to the temple.’ 

 

‘I cannot leave you here, the forsaken will come back for you!’  

 

‘I’ll bleed out before they get here.’ 

 

‘Oh,  _ now _ you’re giving up? No, your Wardens need you, the night elves…’ 

 

‘- need me?’ Maiev snorted a broken laugh. Briefly, Shandris wondered if all her laughs sounded like that, because of her missing nostril. 

 

‘You’re not replaceable, Maiev. And I won’t let you die here! Why did you run off anyways? You knew it was dangerous,’ she adamantly said, tugging on the Warden’s arm, trying to guide it to her shoulder for support. She had to get up, because Maiev always got up. For thousands of years, Maiev had always gotten up. 

 

But the Warden averted her eyes. ‘I’ve lost… a lot of second-in-commands. Maybe it’s time to trade places now.’ 

 

‘For their sake, you should live! Make sure that no one forgets them.’ Shandris tried to pull Maiev upright. But she couldn’t make her budge. The fallen warrior’s breath was nothing but shaky spurts as she slowly dropped back into the grass, stained with her blood. The moonlight shimmered over her armor, and something embedded into the lower part of her chestplate. To her horror, Shandris saw a stubby axe, with its blade sticking out only halfway. She reached for it, braced one knee against Maiev’s cuirass and wrenched it free. A spurt of blood pooled in the hole left by the weapon. 

 

Though she expected the Warden to scream, the only sound she made was a low, muted groan. Clenching her teeth against the pain, she gritted: ‘Shandris… when we dueled -’ 

 

‘Yes, I shouldn’t have taunted you about Sira. I know!’ 

 

_ We can talk about it later, please, later when I’ve gotten you to safety,  _ Shandris thought. 

 

‘When we dueled… I shouldn’t have humiliated you like that. A-at the end. It was stupid.’ 

 

‘We’ll discuss this later, if you’re not sick of me after all of this.’ With a groan and a strained breath, Shandris hauled Maiev’s arm over her shoulders and sat up on one knee, precariously balancing the Warden’s weight on her back. For a moment, it seemed as if the armored woman would drag her down again. Then she felt the metal shift behind her, and Maiev’s bent knee came to rest behind her own. 

 

‘Up,’ she growled, breath smelling like blood, breathing into Shandris’ neck. 

 

Not having the energy for a sarcastic retort, the general rose to her feet. She stumbled, whining in pain as her ribs shifted uncomfortably. Maiev was heavy. All the armor and her hulking physique bore down on the more slender elf. But Shandris breathed through the pain and took a step. And another. 

 

She made it to the edge of the clearing before collapsing, Maiev’s full weight falling on top of her. Adrenaline made her light-headed, she only half felt the pain of her wounds. Instead she struggled upright and tried to orientate. The path they had marched on was to the left of the clearing, the temple somewhere to the east. Logically, she had to get back to the road. Realistically, she was better off walking at an angle to the left and eventually coming across the road again, as to cross more distance. 

 

After some time, in which Maiev’s breath grew more laboured against Shandris’ neck and the younger elf couldn’t help but look back, slightly paranoid, to see if no undead were tailing them, she felt the cobbled road underneath her boots. Maiev’s armored sabatons screeched on the stones. With a rasp and a gurgle of blood in her throat, the Warden caught her breath, shifting to lean on Shandris’ side, one arm slung over her shoulders, walking more or less next to her. 

 

Shandris looked downwards, head sagging in fatigue. They were both trailing blood in their footsteps. For an instant, the world went fuzzy and she felt weakness creep up her legs. 

 

A steadying gauntlet thudded against her chest, pushing her up straighter. ‘Do I need to encourage you now? Warning, I’m no good at it.’ 

 

‘It’s better than spitting fruit seeds at me,’ Shandris said, dragging herself and the Warden a few more steps up the road. 

 

‘You’re not that weak.’ Despite the lackluster nature of the encouragement, Maiev sounded strangely sincere. Talking, however, seemed to whittle her down even more. She braced nearly all her weight onto Shandris, who shrieked as her broken ribs protested against the strain. 

 

‘Good, scream it out. ‘T helps,’ Maiev grated in her ear. 

 

‘And I keep wondering why you have such a rough voice…’ 

 

They walked further, until the first rosy streaks of morning sun filtered through the trees. Shandris wondered whether they were so slow, or if the road to the temple was so long. They had to be bound to arrive soon. It felt like hours of walking, while her legs grew shakier and the Warden constantly leaned more heavily on her shoulder. Her breathing sped up sometimes, to rapid, wheezing inhales. Then slowed to a near stop. Exhausted, beyond fear and too tired to start panicking, Shandris just dazedly wondered if she was going into shock. Or both of them. Then she saw magelights further up ahead. 

 

‘Maiev,’ her voice was a rough croak. ‘The temple! The encampment, we’re here!’ 

 

The Warden didn’t reply. Her head hung limply and, perhaps because she saw the camp, though Shandris doubted that her eyes were opened, she shuddered. Her battered armor rattled. Guards started shouting, yet their words were a buzz in the young elf’s ears. She stumbled and fell, collapsing under the strain once again. Someone wrenched Maiev’s grip off her arm, and she struggled vaguely against the hands turning her on her back. They yelled for a healer, put a bowl with cool liquid to her lips. Shandris’ vision cleared when she drunk it. Half sitting, half lying, she was leaning against one of her sentinels. 

 

Others had started undoing Maiev’s armor. When they threw the chestplate, gorget and padding underneath to the side, a collective gasp went through the crowd. In her awkward position, Shandris could only barely discern the Warden’s form, but she counted more injuries than she had noticed before.  _ Where are the healers,  _ she wanted to yell, but her voice failed her. 

 

A white-clad priestess approached the scene, lifting her robe to avoid soiling it with the growing puddle of blood around the Warden. She touched Maiev’s neck, her eyes went wide and she softly shook her head. 

 

Shandris fought against her sentinel’s grip, a rough scream falling from her lips. Intended to be a “no!” or just Maiev’s name. 

 

But she was too weakened to get to the Warden, her vision went dark. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still they haven't kissed...


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are in love :3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so... yes I totally forgot about this fic. Sorry :')   
> I recently got a comment on in asking me to continue and I'm definitely going to finish this, as there's one more chapter left, but my big fic Ashen Wings is my main focus atm. Also because of time constraints, I'll finish this one at a slower rate.

‘Where is Maiev?’ 

 

It was the first thing that came out of her mouth when Shandris awoke. The healer sitting next to her bed in the field hospital smiled a bit nervously. Then she adjusted Shandris’ head on the pillow so she could view the left side of the tent. There, only one bed away, the Warden laid. She was nearly as pale as the sheets. 

 

‘Help me up,’ Shandris demanded, pushing herself up on her elbows. 

 

‘It would be wiser to lay down, General,’ the healer timidly said. ‘Your ribs are still healing.’ 

 

‘Help me up, now. I must look at the person who saved my life.’ 

 

With some assistance from the healer and a few pained groans, Shandris was able to kneel next to Maiev’s bed. In hindsight, the help she got was good, because the world blurred as she kneeled and she had to grasp the blanket to prevent falling on her face. Steadied against the bed, she reached for Maiev’s neck. While she felt a slight heartbeat, the skin was too cold for her liking. 

 

‘Why isn’t she awake?’ she asked sharply. ‘Maiev isn’t… she isn’t weak, she shouldn’t still be unconscious. How many days has it been?’ 

 

‘Two days, my General, we - the High Priestess insisted on keeping Warden Shadowsong sedated with potions and spells until the worst of her wounds are healed.’  

 

_ Maiev will murder her when she awakens,  _ Shandris thought. She asked if the enchantment could be lifted. Trying to put a generous smile on her face, she said: ‘You ought to wake her. She will… appreciate it, I’m sure.’ 

 

‘I will have to ask the High Priestess for permission.’ 

 

Shandris breathed in sharply. While she wanted to retort, a sharp pain along her healing ribs cut off her breath. Grumbling, she let the healer help her back into the bed, lying down and begrudgingly accepting a bowl with potion. It was not a healing liquid, as she had expected. Instead, everything started to feel warm and fuzzy quickly. Despite wanting to protest that she didn’t need a sleeping potion and that Maiev was the one who needed caring, her tongue didn’t work anymore. The last thoughts she had while passing out concerned what she would say to Maiev. She hadn’t thought it out very well, just yet. And she doubted about her actions on the battlefield, nearly getting herself killed. If Maiev cared enough for her to save her life, despite being disgruntled and arrogant the day prior… how was she ever going to repay it to the Warden? She knew that the woman was much to distant and withdrawn to ask for her help with anything. 

 

When she woke up, a trio of soft voices were conversing next to her. On instinct, Shandris kept her eyes closed and leveled her breathing, still appearing to be asleep. 

 

‘Am I supposed to thank you?’ Maiev growled. She sounded tired, Shandris noted. Her voice was hoarse and tight with pain. But she was awake. 

 

‘In Elune’s name, Maiev, that is not what I meant!’ 

 

Tyrande was also there. Shandris wondered what could have moved her mother to attempt a conversation with an irritated, wounded Maiev. 

 

‘If you could tell me what you wish to have as… as reward for saving my daughter, we would progress a lot more than we are doing now,’ the Night Warrior said, solving Shandris’ question. ‘Riches? Perhaps a newer model glaive?’ 

 

‘Could’ve used both when I was hunting demons,’ the Warden groveled. ‘Where were you then, huh?’ 

 

A silence fell. Tyrande sighed deeply. Shandris opened her eyes on a slit, spying the interior of the tent. Her mother was standing by Maiev’s field bed, looking both disappointed and a little bit concerned. She couldn’t see much of the Warden, only her halved ear and the sharp contour of her jawline. 

 

‘Give me permission to lead a specialized force to the Forsaken camp. I have business there,’ Maiev said. 

 

‘You cannot do that. We are short enough on troops as it is!’ 

 

‘And you asked what I wanted as reward.’ 

 

‘That’s not a reward,’ Shandris tried to say. Unfortunately, it came out as half a pained groan instead, as her healing ribs painfully shifted when she breathed in to speak. 

 

Instantly, Tyrande left the Warden’s side in favour of hers. Sitting down on the side of the bed, she smoothed out Shandris’ hair and placed a soft kiss upon her forehead. ‘My daughter, you are conscious, thank the gods. I heard that you fought very bravely.’ 

 

Shandris laughed despite her injuries. ‘Who told you that?’ 

 

The Night Warrior nodded at Maiev in the bed besides them, where the Warden was eyeing them both. Shandris felt a heated blush creep up her cheeks. She desperately tried not to make eye contact with either her mother or the Warden. 

 

‘I shall talk to you later, my daughter,’ Tyrande said, not even trying to be quiet. ‘Do try to change her mind, please. She should not go on another rampage.’ 

After assuring her mother than she would try, Shandris watched as she left the tent. Then she hauled herself out of the bed. When sitting down besides Maiev, she looked at the Warden’s form. She had folded back the blankets partially to free her arms, and her chest too. She was looking surprisingly comfortable, with her arms folded underneath her head. Beneath the loose cotton shirt that the healers had dressed her in, Shandris could spot many wrappings of bandages where the laces of her collar are undone. Guilt slowly rose in her chest. The wound on Maiev’s neck appeared to be shallower than the rest, as it wasn’t bandaged and already slowly fading to a scar. 

 

‘Pretty, isn’t it,’ Maiev murmured. ‘Neat white scars, healed by priestesses in neat white robes. None of the rough, darkened shit I usually get.’ 

 

‘I’m sorry.’ 

 

Shandris felt herself choke up, tears stinging in her eyes. This was her fault. She had nearly gotten the night elves’ greatest warrior killed. Then Maiev wormed a hand out form underneath her head and prodded Shandris into her healing ribs, though more softly than what suited her. 

 

‘Hey… Shandris,’ she said, searching for the younger elf’s eyes. ‘Stop that.’ 

 

There was no real emotion in her voice, just a quiet few words that made the Sentinel-General swallow back her tears. The emotion was in the Warden’s eyes. Half closed, the right one moreso than the left, slightly squinting. Her eyebrows were drawn downward, nearly concernedly. She pursed her lips, a little puff of air escaped from between them. 

 

‘Stop,’ she repeated, even more softly. ‘What happened… ‘s not your fault.’ 

 

‘I’m sorry,’ Shandris sniffled. ‘I’m just… so glad that you’re alive. I thought you were going to die, when we were walking here.’ 

 

A few seconds of silence. Then Maiev said: ‘Yes. I thought so too. But the Forsaken did that, not you.’ 

 

‘Well, I got myself crushed beneath that catapult, and-’ 

 

‘Things like that happen in war. Could you’ve known that that thing was rotten? Could I?’ Maiev fiddled with the laces on her shirt, idly rolling the leather cords between her fingers. Then she looked at Shandris again and sighed. ‘What am I gonna do with you now? Can’t get rid of you anymore, it seems.’ 

 

Another furious blush rose in Shandris’ cheeks. She felt a tad weak in the stomach. Probably just because of her injuries. ‘Well, you could stand to speak about… whatever that was with Tyrande, just yet.’ 

 

Instantly, Maiev seemed to shut down. Her face turned blank, resembling a slab of stone more than a night elf. She stopped messing with her collar, tucking her hands underneath the blanket and averting her eyes from Shandris’. Shaking her head, she mumbled: ‘No… don’t wanna talk about that. Not now. Everything hurts now… it’s just-’ 

 

Shandris laid a slightly trembling hand on the Warden’s shoulder, carefully squeezing. ‘You - you don’t have to.’ 

 

Maiev frowned at the hand, but did nothing to stop her. Inwardly, the General thought to know why Maiev wanted to go to the forsaken camp. But throwing herself headfirst into combat again, with these injuries, against one of her own Wardens? Shandris was certain that it would be the end of Maiev. She also knew that she could not stop her. When her head was not so blurry anymore and her injuries had healed, she had to speak about it with Maiev. 

 

‘You should rest,’ Maiev murmured, shaking Shandris out of her mulling. 

 

‘And so should you.’ 

 

‘ _ Mhmm _ , still got some of this.’ Reaching of a shallow glass with the same potion that the healer had given to Shandris, Maiev swirled the liquid inside it with a distasteful look on her face. 

 

Shandris looked over to the stool besides her bed that also acts as a nightstand. The bowl that she was given a few hours, or maybe a day, prior still stood there. It was half filled with the same sleeping draught. Indeed, they should rest. 

 

‘Do you want to join me and the rest of the Sentinels, whenever we wake up again? We often eat around a big campfire, in the evening. We dance and sing together as well. It would be… fun.’ 

 

‘I’ll consider,’ Maiev said, but Shandris could hear in her voice that she wasn’t likely to turn up, in typical Maiev fashion. 

 

The younger elf walked back to her cot and settled underneath the sheets. Lifting the bowl to Maiev in a half sarcastic toast, she sighed with a faint smile: ‘Sleep well, I suppose?’ 

 

‘Drink up, little general,’ the Warden said, lifting her glass. 

 

Rolling her eyes, Shandris gulped down the potion and put the bowl back onto the stool. Maiev groaned next to her. 

 

‘Gods, I hate this stuff,’ she grumbled. 

 

Then she cracked her knuckles, popped her neck and stretched her arms. Before she could put down the glass, her eyelids drooped. The glass fell out of her hand, shattering on the floor with such an amount noise that Shandris cringed. Maiev’s arm dropped back onto the blankets and she started to snore loudly. It did not take long for the Sentinel-General to follow her example. 

**Author's Note:**

> Eventually we'll get to romance, I promise.


End file.
